The last day of winter was flushed down with buckets of sun and that strange matter called hope. Fleetwood Mac has me barefoot in the park: goodness strikes/ maybe once maybe twice/ and I see your bright eyes/ and it all comes down to you. Winter has left and we made it through. O! Rudi is going to be a dad. You should have seen his eyes. He looked incandescence. Fluorescent! Electric!You should have seen my neighbor’s lemon tree bowing to the future. That painting was finished today, it’s five times bigger than my body. An army of No’s stands guarding the mantra ringing in my heart:
independence in interdependence.